A Reflection of Muchness
by PE4CE
Summary: Alice has returned from China with great success to her name. She doesn't remember Underland, but its inhabitants remember her. Can they stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life? Or will Tarrant lose Alice forever?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Alice found she had missed the bumpy carriage rides. Her ship had made port not two days ago but she had had to stay behind at the offices and sort out all odd ends with Lord Ascot and his associates. Now she was off to see her mother, who -at the invite of Lord Ascot- was spending the summer at his estate.

She pulled back the curtain and pushed her face against the cracked-open window. The crisp, English air felt good, felt like home. She stared off into the dusky sky and was reminded of China. The bright, lovely colours, the warm air, filled with rich scents.

Suddenly, another memory flashed before her eyes, of a man made of bright, lovely colours, a warm gaze and filled with the rich scent of tea.

_Why is a raven like a writing desk?_

The rocking of the carriage shook the images away and she sighed, frustrated. This man had tickled her mind ever since the failed engagement party. And though she felt she should know him, she could not bring herself to make more of him than a dream. Whenever Alice thought of it for too long, there was a bad taste in her mouth, the taste of guilt; as if it were something she ought to have remembered.

_Why __**is**__ a raven like a writing desk? It isn't at all like a writing desk. But I suppose that's the point of it all. Chess would prob- Chess? Who is Chess? I don't think I know anyone by that name. Ah Alice, you really ought to get some rest. But it doesn't look like you will tonight, does it now?_

In the distance, she could see lights, streaming out the windows of the Ascot estate. Too many lights shone too brightly for comfort. Squinting, Alice could make out torches, illuminating the path up to the estate. There were numerous carriages and what appeared to be ladies in ball gowns and gentlemen in their finest attire streaming out of these carriages and into the building.

Alice lay back with a huff and closed her eyes. This was surely Lady Ascot's doing. Her mother would not subject her to this sort of thing. Wearily, she set her gaze upon the estate once again and decided to let it be.

_There's really no harm if they are just welcoming me back..._

The carriage pulled up shortly afterwards and Alice managed to slide out unnoticed. She slipped into the estate and wandered through the guests, searching for her mother or sister. The whole house had been opened up, so people could comfortably float from room to room and not feel confined to the ballroom. Everything was lit up magnificently, all prized and expensive possessions being shown off. She marvelled at some of the more exotic items before moving to keep her head down and continued her search. But alas, Alice stuck out like a sore thumb in her state of travel clothing and not a glittering gown. It wasn't long before she was recognized and all fell silent, eyes glued to her.

_Bother..._ She thought as she smiled sheepishly at everyone.

An arm wrapped around her waist and a large, warm hand took hers. Alice drew in a sharp breath as she was spun around quickly and led into another room, larger, brighter and much more extravagant. She was being swept across the dance floor so quickly that guests nearly had to dive out of the way.

She was reminded of being gently pulled across an elaborate tea service.

_Well, as you can see we're still having tea and it'__s all because I was obliged to kill T__ime waiting for your return. You'__re terribly late you know. __**N**__**aughty**__.__ Well, anyway, time became very offended and stopped altogether. Not a tick ever since._

The music stopped. Alice was standing before her mother, sister and Lady Ascot. She looked to her right but the man that had led her here was gone. She missed the comfort it had brought. Not because she was afraid, but because it filled the void her loneliness had carved into her. Something missed that she didn't even know was meant to be missed.

Lady Ascot raised a brow as Alice looked back at them. The quiet still held the room in shock at her whirlwind appearance.

"Alice..." Her mother's warm voice broke the spell, "welcome home dear." She swept over to her daughter and wrapped her in a tight embrace. Margaret joined them with a bright smile on her face.

Alice felt right again and held on tightly. She had missed them, both of them. All thoughts and dreams were dissolved as she finally realized she was home. It hadn't quite hit her until now and her smile grew thrice its original size. The ball went on as Lord Ascot entered, his wife hurrying to greet him.

"Oh how I've missed you both! I have so much to tell you! China is a beautiful place, and everything is so full of life and colour. And the food! You wou-"

Alice's mother put a gentle finger to her lips. "Come now dear, I want very much to hear of your journey, but let's get you cleaned up a bit."

Alice would have protested, but she felt no real need to. It was getting slightly stuffy in the ballroom and she was beginning to feel absolutely mad.

_Two days earlier..._

In Marmoreal, the White Queen was returning from her own journey. She had gone off to assess the damage her sister had inflicted across the land and to bring aide to those in need. Many had been starving and without home. But the Queen had not been so disturbed, until she had gone into the catacombs of Salazen Grum and found so many innocent creatures, children even, imprisoned unjustly, awaiting some ill fate. The Queen had helped where she could, but some were beyond the repair of her healing magic.

Underland was free, yes, but it was scarred, horribly, deformed. It would never be quite the same again. She closed her eyes against the memories and steeled herself to meet her court, the carriage rattling to a stop. The door opened swiftly and a brightly-cuffed, thimble-fingered hand was offered to the Queen. She took it with a knowing smile and floated out of the carriage, guided by Tarrant Hightop.

He bowed his head to her and she nodded to him and all her courtiers as they followed suit.

"Your majesty." They all greeted.

Mirana acknowledged all of them, though she felt anxious to get away to her private offices.

Tarrant, sensing this, began making excuses for his Queen.

It wasn't long before Tarrant and Mirana were alone in the Queen's private office. She sighed and dropped down into her seat, her hands cradling her face in a very uncharacteristically hopeless manner.

Tarrant sat across from her, waiting quietly, patiently for her to speak. As he waited, he took off his hat and set it in his lap, dusting it off and pulling loose hairs from it.

Mirana lifted her face and watched him, knowing that he was doing all he could to contain himself.

"It's worse than I thought," she said, finally. Tarrant nodded after a moment. "I don't know if I can do this alone."

"What of the Oraculus?" The Hatter's whisper was barely audible.

Mirana smiled sadly.

On her trip, she had detoured to the Hall of Mirrors, where the Oraculus resided. The Oraculus being a sister Oracle to the Oraculum. But instead of telling the days of Underland, it predicted the times of the Uplands. Only Royalty could enter the Hall and if anyone -including royalty- tried to take the Oraculus from the Hall of Mirrors, it and the thief, would turn to popperscoff. Mirana, in her banishment, had not been able to enter the Hall to check on Alice, and Iracebeth was never even told of it. The Queen, hoped to keep it that way.

"She doesn't remember us Tarrant."

The colours seemed to drain from him, as if he were turning to stone right before her eyes. He pulled his arms around himself and stiffened.

"Is she still away?"

"No."

He breathed life, eyes brightening.

The Queen winced.

"But... Things went too well for her to not return. She's stubborn, she won't pass up the opportunity."

Silence again as Tarrant stared at Mirana.

"Nothing has changed since you last looked upon the Oraculus." It wasn't a question, but a blunt statement that they both had to come to terms with.

"I'm afraid not." She confirmed.

Mirana watched Tarrant as gathered himself, as a broken statue may pick it's broken pieces up, and simply walked out of her office. She continued watching his gloomy form meander down the hall and then jumped when he ripped a tapestry off the wall and smashed numerous other hangings and furniture. He screamed incoherently in Outlandish.

Mirana got up and shut the door, leaning back against it. She was only able to listen as her dear friend delved deeper into his madness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_The next morning..._

Tarrant stared up at the ceiling of his room. Or rather, he stared at the floor of his room, seeing as he was laying on the ceiling. He watched the dust dance in the light that streamed through the windows, his eyes a tepid blue with thought.

The Hatter's appearance was that of a mad man gone mad. Well, _more_ mad. His hair was limp and tangled, skin a more sickly grey than bright white, and all colours -aside from his eyes and hair- were replaced by tones of slate and ash. Wholly, he seemed de-saturated.

After a few long hours in that position and no sleep, Tarrant stood, dusted the plaster from his clothes (it really did no good), marched out of his quarters and to the kitchen, keeping his path on the ceiling. Though it was awkward getting through doorways, he practically had to climb through them. Not that there was anything practical about it in the first place. Tarrant did not care, he was terribly distracted with other things and even if he had ought to care, he simply did not. Which was in poor form for him indeed, seeing as with every step he took, debris would fall onto unsuspecting fish butlers and courtiers. Not to mention into his nose and hair.

In the kitchen, the White Queen was concentrating very hard on an unwieldy and wise-looking book. The Hatter clambered through the door awkwardly, still on the ceiling and then stomped over to the spot just above Mirana's head, being sure to leave a devilish trail of plaster and debris behind him and atop Mirana's book. This did not phase the Queen one bit.

"Tarrant, please get off the ceiling," she said sternly, not looking up from the book.

He tried to remain stubborn, but the better half of him manoeuvred his form over to the nearest wall and carefully walked him down to the floor. He braced himself against the same wall, getting used to be the right way up again. Or the wrong way up, depending on which way you wanted to look at it. He stayed against that wall, sulking like a child; silently begging.

"No."

The Hatter darkened even further as his eyes blazed. It took every ounce he had to not lose his temper with Her Majesty.

"But Majesty, how can you let the Oraculus decide everythin' withou' even _tryin__'_ to alter it?" His brogue accent just licking at his words.

The Queen shocked him with an adequate answer.

"_Because_ we have not yet considered what the _Oraculum_ has to say about this."

Brimstone eyes suddenly fell upon the document at the Queen's elbow, and he knew she had already looked upon it. The Hatter's colours came rushing back and a crooked grin took him over. Springing forward, he nearly knocked over several bottles and jars filled with borogove juice and mome rath warts.

The Queen held out a hand to right them without looking up.

"Oh please Your Majesty, please tell me she wi-"

His hopeful lisp was cut off by the Queen who had started mixing ingredients.

"Three tablespoons of tove blood, four slices of dried fuffleshroom, a splash of unicorn saliva..."

The Hatter knew he ought to be patient but he was fairly certain that he had left his patience in his other left shoe. Which, sadly, the Hare had borrowed for a stew.

"Majesty..."

"Five teaspoons of wishful thinking..."

As Mirana added the last teaspoon of the light pink paste, she regarded Tarrant.

"Hm, best make it six."

She added another.

"Majesty..."

The Queen then drew out a rather large vial of swirling purple liquid. When she opened it, a fowl stench littered the air. Mirana turned her head away as she poured the entire contents of the vial into the mixture. A puff of noxious, violet smoke evaporated from the potion.

"Blood of the Jabberwocky..."

Tarrant suddenly understood.

"Are you going to fetch her?" He asked, sounding bewildered. However, only joy could make the colours of a Hightopp shimmer as they were.

The Queen shook her head.

"No Tarrant, you are."

He stared at her, bamboozled, before carrying on in his excited lisp.

"Excellent, when do I leave?"

"It's not so simple Tarrant," the Queen warned.

He slumped but Mirana smiled reassuringly.

"She has to _desire _her return. You cannot simply force her into Underland."

Tarrant blinked and let out a chuckle, waving the Queen's words away.

"No matter, no matter as soon as she sees me all will be remembered! _She_ will be forcing _me_ to bring her home, I assure you."

Mirana winced as she knew this next bit of information may altogether dash the Hatter's hopes.

"You will not necessarily appear yourself Tarrant."

He blinked again and then went into a fit of laughter, his lisp breaking though in gasps.

"Not... appear... myself? How is that possible?" He asked, wiping a tear from his eye and adjusting his hat.

"You will take on a more... Comfortable form for the Uplands. I am not quite certain what that means, but I am sure it will be enough that Alice may not recognize you at first glance."

Grasping this, the Hatter nodded slowly.

"So I will have to start again from scratch."

The Queen watched him for any sign of doubt. There was none, he merely seemed pensive, as if he were coming up with grand schemes. Mad schemes.

This prompted the Queen's next warning.

"Tarrant it would be in your best interest to appear as sane as possible. Alice may be amused by it, and find it endearing, but she is surrounded by people that could severely upturn things for you if you do not proceed with caution."

At that, Mirana thought she saw a trickle of nerves being undone. It was to be expected of someone who had just been told they would not appear the same and mustn't act as one so naturally does.

Tarrant Hightopp would have to become some drab Uplander. There would be no more walking on ceilings or impromptu tea services; or brilliantly inspiring tantrums.

But there would be Alice.

And damned be this Hatter if he lost his muchness now, especially since it was now Alice that needed saving.

He mused at how things had spun around so quickly. Muchness on the other side of the looking glass. But could his mere reflection in the Uplands be enough to awaken the champion?

The Hatter stubbornly pushed all these thoughts away and extended grasping fingers to the White Queen.

Mirana promptly poured the concoction into a tumbler glass and handed it to him before he changed his mind.

"McTwisp will be waiting for you when you awaken," she informed him.

Tarrant coughed and sputtered, having downed the rancid potion eagerly. For a moment, he felt nothing. And then in an uffish fashion, Underland seemed to open it's vast mouth and gobbled the Hatter right up.

The White Queen stared at the spot Tarrant had been standing and fluttered a sigh. She reached for the Oraculum and watched Tarrant seep away.


End file.
